


"A bad thing"

by sofie_sticated



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Graphic Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Illness, Self-Harm, ford wants to help, mabel is self-destructive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9492779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sofie_sticated/pseuds/sofie_sticated
Summary: Ford finds out what Mabel has secretly been doing to herself for a long period of time. He wants to help her. (trigger warning: graphic self-harm)





	

**Author's Note:**

> i am not trying to promote self-harm as something beautiful or beautifully tragic, because it's not. it's an absolutely horrible addiction and i hate it with every fiber of my being. this is basically just me taking my own struggles out on mabel.
> 
> a lot of people are like ‘mabel is the most neurotypical person in gravity falls’ and that’s totally fine! i just personally headcanon her as mentally ill, since i see myself in her a lot, and how much i used to be energetic and happy all the time and now i’m taking my struggles out on her ahaha
> 
> please don't read this if you are triggered or made uncomfortable by self-harm and mental illnesses! stay safe, lovely! ♡

Ford had been the first one to notice - he could thank his hypersensitivity and paranoia for that. He was also the only one who knew about it. However, it wasn’t before after a few days upon meeting her, it clicked in his mind. The way she clung to her sweaters could often be mistaken for _only_ a cute little personality quirk, that was meant to represent, who Mabel really was, but Ford looked through that. Mostly because he used that trick as well - once upon a time.

At first he didn’t say anything. He knew she must be going through something, and bringing up something so sensitive would just stir up unwanted emotions. Although, from time to time, when she would reach for something and the sleeve of her sweater would slip for just half a second, he would feel as if he needed to say something. To ask if she was okay, but that would be stupid. Of course she wasn’t. None of them were. 

The first time he caught her doing it, was a night, only a week and a half since his arrival from the portal (He would forever be grateful that she didn’t press the button). It was 3 am, and nightmares had been tormenting him as usual. Other nights he could perhaps have shrugged them off, turned around and slept, but that night he couldn’t. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe Bill was playing with his mind again, but he swore that he had a feeling something was wrong.

He had decided to check on the twins. Seeing their peaceful state surely would bring him peace. One thing though, there was only one twin. Dipper slept peacefully in his bed, whilst his twin sister’s bed was empty. And that was when he heard a suppressed yelp (of pain perhaps?). It came from the bathroom.

He had knocked on the door, calling out his nieces’ name, but as he noticed the door hadn’t been properly locked, he allowed himself inside (of course covering his eyes, just in case). To his horror, he found his great niece, sitting on the floor; her purple nightgown’s sleeves rolled up and blood trickling down her cut up arms. Some of the already existing wounds were scarring, some were scars, some were new, and some were _fresh_. In her hand she clenched a box cutter - probably ”borrowed”.

Mabel just stared at him wide-eyed, tears streaming down her cheeks. It was like she just froze.

If it was his personal experience speaking or his protective nature of the kids, he couldn’t tell, but Ford didn’t hesitate to help. In a few seconds he crossed the bathroom floor, grabbed his niece by her wrist and gently helped her up. He placed the slightly bloody box cutter by the sink’s side as he turned on the water and began cleaning the wounds.

After that, they sat in the bathroom’s dark atmosphere, talking things through. Apparently, Mabel was dealing with a few different things. Depression and anxiety as the main, but she also dealt with nightmares. Nightmares of Bill. Ford swore if he ever saw that Triangular demon ever again, he would punch him right in the eye for hurting _his_ family. She had used self-harm as a coping mechanism to let out pain and calm herself for almost a half a year.

Mabel always seemed to be a happy, smiling and energetic girl, one of the most positive people he had ever met, and she was all of those things - to an extend. Until her own brain attacked her.

Their conversation ended with Ford patching her up and pulling her into a tight hug, where he let her cry out the last things that needed to be let out. He would stroke her hair and call her ‘sweetheart’ (He knew Stan usually called her ‘sweetie’ or ‘pumpkin’, so Ford had picked up a nickname as well). He understood what she went through. More than she could even imagine. After tugging her into bed, Ford finally felt ready to sleep, seeing as both of the twins looked peaceful. 

 

* * *

 

**2 weeks later**

Mornings were never fun. In Ford’s case it just involved at least 15 minutes discussing the pros and cons of getting up, and eventually - finally - swinging his tired legs over the bedside. If it wasn’t his age catching up to him, it was the years of running, showing its exhaustion at last. This could only be cured with one thing. Coffee.

After returning to this dimension, Ford often asked himself how he survived 30 years without coffee, but it always came back to the fact that running from a demonic triangle is a _great_ inspiration. Stan, as the protective person he was, made sure that his brother didn’t just live on twenty cups of coffee a day and actually got some sleep and food. Ford appreciated that.

Making his way to the kitchen, he reached for a mug and began to brew a cup of coffee. It was a quiet morning. About 9:45 am. Stan was probably in his room, not bothering to get up, and the kids were probably still asleep, meaning Ford had a little time to himself. Despite spending 30 years alone, he actually quite enjoyed his own company (unless he was having a bad mental day - then his head could shut the fuck up).

Picking up yesterday’s newspaper, he decided to catch up with the exciting news of Gravity Falls. Nothing much happened, but it brought a smile to his face when he saw some familiar faces from his past.

Ten minutes later, he heard small running footsteps, making their way down the stairs. Dipper stepped into the kitchen.

As he realized Ford was there, his lips spread into a wide, and tired, smile. “Morning, Grunkle Ford!”

He was wearing his usual pine tree hat, vest and shorts. He opened the cupboard, reaching for a bowl, afterwards grabbing the cereal and pouring himself a bowl. For some reason it made Ford happy to see the kids eating breakfast. It was like a sign that they took care of themselves. Very hypocritical of Ford, who didn’t really eat breakfast.

“Good morning, Dipper,” Ford greeted, nodding at his nephew and taking a sip of his coffee. “What are you up to today?”

As Dipper finished pouring milk on his breakfast, he sat down across for his Grunkle. “Well, Soos is gonna pick me up soon. We’re going to watch the new ‘Terminal Payback’ later!” He gestured widely with his arms. “’The return of the beast protecting man-kind’” 

Ford chuckled. He had noticed right away the boy’s passion for fiction and mystery. It reminded him of himself,

“Is Mabel coming with you?” he asked, gliding his hands around the cup, seeking out the warmth from it. It wasn’t that Mabel was anti-social in any way. She loved spending time with her friends, going out and being the happy girl that she was. Sometimes she just felt bad, and there was nothing wrong with that. Ford just liked seeing her happy and having fun with her friends the most.

Dipper shook his head. “No, she’s just upstairs watching some show and knitting. She’s just… a little tired today, I think.”

Of course, Dipper knew that Mabel didn’t always have it easy, but he didn’t know everything that Ford knew. Tired or having a “Mabel day” usually meant something was getting her down. Ford frowned. 

“I’m going to check up on her soon,” he said, gazing at the staircase to the attic. Returning his gaze to his worried nephew, he put on a smile. “Why don’t you tell me about that movie of yours?”

It lit Dipper’s face up as he frantically started explaining the plot of the movie. Despite being rather distracted, Ford did catch the main plot. The busy college student Hank-something, got his life turned around when he is suddenly obligated to save the world from the supernatural. In the end of movie he, too, turns into a monster (a classic). _This_ movie was the continuation, explaining his life as a mutant. Of course, Ford nodded and smiled at the many plot lines Dipper presented, but Ford had to admit that movie sounded too technological for him, and maybe meant for generations younger than him. It was nice to see Dipper being excited, though. 

Suddenly from outside, the sound of a car pulling up in front of the shack enacted. Leaving his bowl by the sink, Dipper ran to the door. 

“I’ll talk to you later, Grunkle Ford!” he yelled over his shoulder.

“Enjoy the movie!” Ford replied, hearing a faint ‘thanks!’ as a reply.

He knew he had to check up on his niece now.

 

* * *

 

Making his way to the attic, Ford stopped outside the door to the kids’ room. Before knocking he cleared his throat, ready to put on his therapist-attitude. Knocking three times, he heard some ruffling and then a faint ‘Come in’.

As he opened the door he was met by his niece, lying in her bed with the kids’ shared laptop, watching something. She sent him a faint smile, which he of course returned, however, it was clear to see that she hadn’t slept very much, if she even managed to get any sleep.

“So, eh, how are you doing today, Mabel?” he asked, leaning up against the doorframe.

Mabel didn’t break away her attention from the screen, and with an empty look in her eyes; Ford doubted that the show was interesting at all.

She shrugged. “I’m alright, I j-just didn’t sleep that well,” she admitted; only glancing up once.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Why couldn’t you sleep, dear?”

She didn’t look up. She was acting strange, almost what Ford would describe as anxious. “I guess I just had a l-lot on my mind. You know, puberty stuff and such. It’s fine.” 

That didn’t convince Ford one bit, and to prove his suspicions he saw her biting her lower lip as it began to shake - almost as if she was holding back a sob. Due to her hair covering her eyes, he couldn’t tell whether or not she was tearing up, but her body language was closed off.

Christ, Ford felt freakishly analytical today, but when his senses caught on to something, he just couldn’t let it go. The absolutely only benefit of living with paranoia.

“Mabel, are you sure that you are okay? You are acting a tad strange,” he said softly, trying not to call her out.

She nodded quickly, biting her lip harder as she tried to focus on what was on her screen, instead of on Ford. 

“Mabel…” Ford half pleaded, wanting to help his niece as much as he could, but not wanting to pressure her into to talking either. 

She inhaled sharply, which sounded more as a gasp in an attempt not to let out a sob, than an inhalation for courage. 

“I, eh, did a bad thing,” Mabel admitted and sniffled, her eyes suddenly filling with tears as she looked up at Ford for the first time. He hurried to her bedside. She quickly realized that wiping away her tears weren’t going to make them stop. “I did a v-very, very bad thing.” Her voice was shaky and watery and threatened to let go of her sobs.

Grabbing Mabel’s hand, he used his other hand to stroke her cheek. As much as he could, he tried to comfort her, although, calm words and small shushes didn’t seem to help. He wasn’t really used to comforting other people. Dealing with panic attacks and meltdowns had always been something that he had to deal with himself - never to other people! So he did what he remembered his mother do. Pulling her closer to him and rocking her back and forth. Just letting her cry out, which she then did.

Her soft cries turned into sobs, which she muffled by burying her head in his shoulder.

They sat close together for ten minutes. Mabel’s sobbing was heartbreaking. There was so much sadness in this “happy-go-lucky” girl, and she kept it all to herself. This was her outlet. Ford was happy to be the one to help her.

“Mabel, sweetheart,” he spoke softly as he felt her calm down a bit. Her face was still hidden in his shirt, her small hands grabbing the fabric tightly. “Can I see?” 

He felt her tense up against him. She stayed put for a while, not knowing what to answer, except for sniffling from time to time. 

As she pulled away slightly, Ford saw her red and puffy eyes. Tears had left faint trails down her cheeks (not to mention his shirt) and lips were still quivering as if anything could trigger another meltdown.

“I w-was re-really scared…!” she suddenly erupted, grabbing her still covered up arms.

He nodded sympathetically. “I understand. I just want to see if-“

“And it didn’t wanna s-stop bleeding!” she squeaked, clenching her arm harder. This was when the outline of a bandage of some sort appeared under her shirt. “I-it was an accident! I di-didn’t me-eean to go so deep! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Mabel!” Ford exclaimed, grabbing his niece by the shoulders. She looked shocked up at him with teary eyes. Maybe he raised his voice too much? Slowly he lowered to his hands to her left arm, encircling her wrist. Looking up, he said with the softest voice he could muster, “I’m not mad at all. I’m just concerned. May I have a look?”

Looking away for a second, Mabel didn’t regain eye contact as she nodded, letting her arms go limp in his grip. With tender movements Ford rolled up her sleeve, revealing a thick bandage, tightly wrapped around her arm, together with the already existing scars. Even though it was tightly wrapped behind many layers, blood had still managed to leave a big stain around the bandage. He let his thumb brush over the bandage, feeling blood staining is finger. It was… that fresh? 

“When did you make this, sweetie?” he asked as he began to unravel the bandage, the stain getting bigger and bigger the further he went. 

She shrugged, looking closely at his movements. “Like… at 7 am?”

7 am? It was 10 am now, and it hadn’t stopped the bleeding completely? This couldn’t be good. Usually with such a tightly wrapped bandage, the bleeding would have stopped. It sent an anxious feeling through Ford’s body as he unraveled some of the lower parts of the bandage. Kind of like chills, but feeling like he just missed a step on the stairs.

Pulling off the bandage completely, Ford was met with a horrifying sight. In the little girl’s arm - _his_ little girl’s arm - three big cuts were shining red. The first one was the worst, however, it was further away from the wrist than the others, which was good at least. It was deep. Too deep for an almost 13 year old girl. Too deep for anyone. It was almost, if not a whole, centimeter wide, and she had definitely gotten too close to the fat tissue. The skin around it had been tainted with blood, and it seemed as if a bruise was forming around it. The other ones were deep as well, but not as deep, however, they seemed to have taken multiple attempts to deepen, seeing as there were tiny lines around them.

“M-Mabel, these…” he didn’t know what to say, honestly. For a child to be so sad that they’d have to mutilate their skin like that was _tragic_ to say the least. How do you care for someone so sad? Ford truly didn’t know, so instead his brain kicked in. This couldn’t be left alone. “These need medical attention. And fast. Come on, I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

Mabel gasped, shaking her head frantically. “No!” she exclaimed, pulling her arm to herself, tears welling up again. “They’ll tell mom and dad! They can’t kn-know!”

Not even her own parents knew about this issue. Ford truly was the only one who knew. This could very well become an issue. It was clear to see that she, too, was scared. He had to be the adult here.

Calmly, he cupped her cheeks, making her look him in the eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m not mad at you, at all,” he said firmly but as kind as he could. Did it work? She didn’t look more relaxed. “I’m just concerned about… this. Because I care about you.” It seemed like foreign words in his mouth, but he meant them. “Will you let me take you to the hospital? Then we can figure out what to do then. Just the two of us.”

This seemed to calm her down slightly, and she managed to stiffly nod. Pushing her blanket off herself, she planted her feet on the ground and stood up. She seemed to be testing her steadiness, but decided that she was stable enough. Ford kept close, just in case the blood loss had taken its toll.

Sneaking out of the house, trying not to wake up Stan, Ford drove Mabel to the hospital - in Stan’s car. Although he hadn’t driven a car in decades, it wasn’t that hard to remember the basics. And besides, his driving knowledge wasn’t important. What was important was to get Mabel to the hospital. And so he did.

 

* * *

 

Most of the trip had been silent besides from Ford asking, if she was feeling lightheaded, which was a negative. However, he wasn’t quite convinced. Her gaze was empty; she stared mindlessly out of the window, clenching her lightly bandaged arm. Tears were resting in the corner of her eyes, threatening to fall. At one point, without taking his eyes off the road, he grabbed her hand and gave it a slight, reassuring clench.

At the hospital they hurried Mabel into a private office, stopping her bleedings. She took getting stitches like a champ and only flinched a few times, but the numbing took away most of the pain anyways.

Afterwards, while Mabel was having a personal conversation with a children’s doctor, Ford had to talk to a doctor about mental health options for Mabel. 

“So as we cleaned away the blood, we noticed many other scars,” the doctor explained. Of course. It wasn’t her first time. “Self-inflicted. How long has this been happening?”

Ford thought back. He really didn’t know. It was only a few weeks since he had found out himself. “I’m not quite sure. If I have to guess, then months. Quite possibly half a year.”

The doctor nodded, writing down on a piece of paper. He proceeded to ask about Mabel’s mental health, if any mental disorders had been diagnosed from home, in which Ford replied with the things Mabel had told him the first time he caught her. She had been diagnosed with depression and anxiety by a children’s psychiatrist. He decided not to include the part where Bill probably traumatized her.

After Ford’s description, the doctor nodded, scratching his head and sighed. “Very well. If you have time this week, we would like for you, or one of Mabel’s other guardians, and Mabel, of course, to return and discuss psychiatry options for,” he proposed, waiting for Ford’s response, which was just a stiff nod. “It’s not many kids this young we meet who has mutilated themselves this bad. We need to run some tests on her, but what I think right now, is that we need to put her on a low doze of an anti-depressant sooner or later. For what is appropriate for kids, I’m thinking maybe Prozac. Lexapro isn’t good for a child.” 

Ford nodded. He couldn’t agree more.

“Now, I think it’s time for you to see your niece,” he said with a smile. “She’s in a good enough condition to go home. Be sure to keep an eye on her.”

“I will,” Ford replied, imitating the doctor’s stiff smile. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

Neither of them said anything half of the way home. Mabel had her back turned to Ford, leaning her head against the window. Occasionally he could hear her sniffling, which would make him give her shoulder a kind squeeze as he focused on driving. The sun was slowly setting, painting the town in a golden light. 

They drove past a lookout point with a view of the whole town, including the UFO shaped mountain cutout. 

“Grunkle Ford,” Mabel suddenly chirped; still a bit of exhaustion in her voice; nearly startling Ford as the silence was broken. As she turned her head to look at him, she revealed bloodshot eyes, but the typical Mabel gleam still shone through. “Can we watch the sunset from the mound-thing back there, pretty please?” she was referring to the lookout point.

“O-of course, sweetheart,” Ford stuttered, slowing down the car to turn it around. He felt a warm source of happiness spread across his chest, as he was able to see the happy Mabel shine through her. She sat down in her seat, looking content with that.

Ford parked the car in the grass at the top of the hill, and as soon as the car stopped Mabel jumped out and ran to the edge of the hill, sitting down in the tall and flowery grass. She looked mesmerized by the light, kind of like a moth attracted to a lamp. 

Approaching, Ford sat down besides her, dragging his old knees as close to his chest as he could, so he sat nearly in the same position as she did. 

As he glanced at her face, he noticed a calm and content expression he hadn’t seen all day. “You like the sunset?” he asked.

She nodded. “I like the sunset and sunrise. They are so pretty! It’s kind of like the world goes to bed after a long day, you know,” she replied. She turned her head to him with big eyes and a tiny smile playing on her lips. “Is that weird?” 

“Not at all,” he shook his head no. Looking back at the sunset, that was slowly making its way to the horizon, he smiled. “Back when I was in the portal, if I was in a dimension with a sun-like object, I would enjoy every second of it. The vitamins, the warmth, and yeah, the way it went to bed at night, as I also went to sleep.” 

Mabel listened carefully, hugging her knees closely to her chest.

For a while they just sat in silence, watching as the sun got ready to sleep, feeling the nice and cool summer breeze hit their faces. The grass rattled in the wind, tickling their hands.

Ford looked at Mabel, who emptily, but astonished stared at the blinding light. He knew he had to say something. He desperately wanted to bring up her mentality and the reason why they sat on this very hill, watching the sun go down. But this was so perfect. Like a photograph, not to be disturbed by anything. But as soon as they would step over the doorstep to the shack, he knew Mabel would try to forget all of this. And that was the opposite of what Ford wanted. He wanted her to remember what had happened and why it happened. Suppressing feelings was _always_ a bad idea - especially if you were self-destructive.

Taking a deep breath, Ford started, “Mabel,” she didn’t look up. She knew what topic it was he wanted to bring up. “I think we need to talk.”

She shyly nodded, closing her eyes and resting her head on her knees. “I know what I do is weird and stupid and dangerous, but it’s really, really, _really_ hard to not do it.”

“I understand, I-“

“No you don’t!” Mabel exclaimed, sitting up fully, shocking her grunkle. “No one does! Whenever I hear someone talk about it, they always label it as ‘emo’ or ‘attention seeking’ and people like me should be locked up. I’m so tired of it…” Tears began welling up in her eyes. “I’m so tired... I’m so exhausted...” She put her head back on knees. “I’m sorry for yelling, Grunkle Ford, it was just-“

Interrupting her, he put a hand on her shoulder. “No need to apologize, sweetie,” taking back his hand he smiled nervously as he rolled up his own sleeve. “I understand your feelings. I really do. It’s one of the hardest things to overcome. But it is not impossible.”

As his sleeve was fully rolled up, Mabel’s eyes widened. His whole underarm was filled with white scars, years old. They were thick and bulgy and trailed all the way to his shoulder. When out of the sunlight, they might have been unnoticeable, but now, fully revealed and illuminated, they were vibrant. They were older, yet they still reflected all the pain he had probably felt.

Mabel clenched her tightly bandaged arm. “Man, now I feel even worse about yelling,” she sniffled, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “G-grunkle Ford are those from your time in the portal?”

He nodded, rolling down his sleeve again. “Some before, too,” she looked confused as he said that. “The times… Bill didn’t show himself for me, back when we had a deal, I would… hurt myself to feel closer to his brilliant ideas. When I got stuck in the portal, I regained the old habit.” 

Suddenly he felt small arms cling to his side, seeing his niece burying her face into his arm. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she mumbled into his sleeve. He could feel the warmth of her breath through his sweater. “You don’t deserve that.”

He smiled, patting her hair. “Neither do you, Mabel,” he replied, earning a small look from her.

“When did you stop?” he froze. When did he stop? It must have been years ago, yet the memories of him opening his own skin seemed like it was just the other day.

“If I have to take a very faint guess, I’d say about 10 years ago,” he nodded. “I took some time, willpower and some relapses, but… I manage.” 

Mabel sighed. “It sounds hard, and I don’t really have any willpower…”

“That’s not true!” Ford insisted, gesturing to her. “Right before, when you got upset and raised your voice, was your first instinct to run to your self-destructive behaviors?”

Sitting back, she crossed her arms and turned her head to the sunset, watching it burn. “I guess not,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t really count. We are in the middle of nowhere, in a really beautiful place. I have no options here.”

“That does count,” Ford said. “Even if it was just for a brief moment, it’s those moments we need to cherish. The moments where we can just enjoy life, and let the voices screaming at us to hurt ourselves go. Cherish those moments, Mabel.” 

Her eyes were wide as she gazed up at her grunkcle, suddenly looking down at her hands again, deep in thought. 

“Can I ask you something, Mabel?” Ford asked, catching her attention. She nodded, preparing herself to answer whatever question he had for her. She had already opened up to him and raised her voice at him; there was nothing she couldn’t answer now. “Do you want to get better?”

Maybe everything except for that. Ford knew for a fact that that was a hard question, and he didn’t want to put any unnecessary pressure on her. Sending her a small smile, he said, “It’s okay to be unable to answer, you know.”

She nodded. “I know… it’s just that I don’t know the answer. Sometimes I really want everything bad just to stop so I don’t have to fake my happiness anymore. I want to feel happy, for real! But… other times I don’t care. I just want to lie down and disappear. And I’m-I’m afraid of giving up on this-“ she gestured to her arms and thighs, clearly referring to her self-harm issues. “It’s like a rush going through me, you know? I mean- God, of course you know, it’s just… hard.” 

Ford nodded, understanding. It had taken so long for him to just have _a day_ where he wouldn’t think of it. Where his brain gave him a break. But it was understandable. It was an addiction after all. Suddenly, he gazed down at the girl. Did she even know _why_ she craved it? Why she was awake at night, cold-sweating from the urges pressing down on her.

“Mabel, do you know what happens when you hurt yourself?” he asked.

Shrugging and nodding at the same time, she replied, “I mean, it makes me feel like this,” she took at deep breath and exhaled, imitating the relaxed feeling Ford knew all too well. “Kinda like, you know, relieved.”

“Right, those are chemicals being released in your brain,” she tilted her, looking confused. “Something called ‘dopamine’ to be exact. They make you feel like that-“ he imitated the inhale-exhale process she had just demonstrated. “You get addicted to that relief, chemicals, and the process of harming yourself, but Mabel, let me tell you a secret.” He gestured her to lean closer, which she did, very intrigued. “You can get the feeling from so many other places.”

“Y-you can?”

He nodded. “Sure. They won’t be exactly the same, and they will be underwhelming at first. It will never be exactly the same, unfortunately, but distracting yourself with things such as watching your favorite TV-show or eating your favorite meal can release dopamine. And if that’s not enough, I have many, many methods to help you get over it.”

Mabel gave him a small smile in gratitude, but it soon turned into a frown. Her fists clenched together, she muttered, “It’s really hard, isn’t it?”

Hesitating for a moments, Ford nodded. It was one of the hardest things to get out of, for sure. He just didn’t want to take away her hope to get better. “There will be slip-ups, for sure. Sometimes clenching an ice-cube or snapping a hairband against your wrist, just won’t work. And that’s okay! And sometimes… sometimes you might wish not to stop. As if it’s too hard, or as if you are getting a part of yourself taken away.”

Ford could see her recognizing that description very well. After a while, an addiction would become a part of a person’s character trait and become a hard thing to say goodbye to.

Mabel sighed. “I tried to stop, like, once, I think,” she explained, not making eye contact as if she had just said something embarrassing. “I know that sounds pathetic or something, but it just feels empty, you know? Like my other half was taken away from me.” Ford nodded. 

Mabel looked at the palms of her hands, and he could see her tearing up again. 

“But Mabel, listen to me,” he said, catching her attention again. He sent her a reassuring smile. “You won’t be alone this time. Your other half is not your addiction. Your other half is your family. We are going help you through your struggles.”

“What if… Dip and Grunkle Stan a-are gonna get mad and weirded out by me?” Mabel whispered. 

He shook his head, putting his arm around her. “We love you, Mabel,” This little girl meant so much to him. He wished she could mean so much to herself too. “None of them will look down on you. We are here to help you through it. I promise.” 

Suddenly he felt his niece throw her arms around him. Slowly he encircled her as well, feeling the warmth from her tears soak through his sweater, but he didn’t mind. She didn’t sob, she just silently cried to him. Stroking her hair, he felt himself tear up.

“Thank you, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel muttered. “For having hope in me, I mean.”

“Of course, Mabel,” he replied. They were going to be okay. “Any time.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!
> 
> please leave a review of what you thought of it, if you feel like it c:


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